Very few phenomena are as misrepresented in Western mainstream discourse and as poorly understood by Westerners as the conflict between the Zionist entity of Israel and the Palestinian People. While this issue has grown into perhaps the great dividing line that separates the morally aware and responsible from the callous, the indifferent, and the wicked, a fog lies over the minds and hearts of too many Westerners, none more so than the residents of the faltering United States. Some are excusable in their ignorance for one reason or another. Others are less so. And yet others, a rather large group, willfully side with their own luciferian elite leadership and the ruling Anglo-Zionist ideologues and looters. America’s political class never ceases to amaze and confound, releasing one idiotic, bloodthirsty statement after another about the subject in general, and, specifically, with their nearly-uniform reaction to the late genocide, the Gazacaust. Even Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., whom I otherwise respected for his book about US bioweapons programs, said Palestinians were the “most pampered people in the world.” In his world, “pampered” must be synonymous with “bombed” and “starved.” The Clown Prince of Gomorrah, Lindsey Graham, coldly said of Gaza, “Level the place.” Andy Ogles (ogles what, we wonder), said of the Gazans, “Kill them all.” False Witness and delusional moron Tim Walberg suggested repeating the war crimes of Nagasaki and Hiroshima against Gaza to “Get it over quick.” Joe “I am the AI” Biden mumbles one thing and then another, though he, a self-proclaimed Zionist, ever arms and supports the occupiers and their genocide. Carnival barker Donald Trump said, “Only a crazy or an idiot wouldn’t respond like Israel did to October 7.” Trump might be in an ideal position to know the inclinations of crazies and idiots. But neither he nor any of the others knows or cares to understand the totality of the situation, including the timeline of so many pitiful events. The American selling point for this particular atrocity is that Israel was attacked by terrorists on October 7, 2023, and that it has every right to defend itself. Intelligent men, like China’s Ma Xinmin, know that occupation forces have no claim to self-defense when attacked by the people they oppress and that the oppressed have every right to resist their occupation and oppression. And regardless of lies, distortions, woeful American attention spans, and lack of education, this conflict was brewing well over a century before October 2023. I recently read, reviewed, and fell in love with The Stone House by Dr. Yara Hawari, a narrative telling of Palestinian life, suffering, and triumph from the early Twentieth Century through 1968. Within Hawari’s combined stories and experiences, including those during and before the Nakba, the reader catches glimpses of repeated betrayals of Palestine. Through the eyes of her characters, members of her own family, she masterfully touches on the impact of a continuous sequence of terrible events. With a fascinating and inspiring human touch, she reveals the “what” of the shared Palestinian experience. Now, I have found a work that fills in many of the (early) gaps, providing the “hows” and “whys” behind the assorted deceptions and barbarities. Dr. Blake Alcott has assembled an expansive two-volume collection of original documents that provide a roadmap that leads from the end of the Nineteenth Century until the formation of political nation-state Israel after World War Two. His work is profoundly important from a historical perspective and because the experiences of the mapped territory stretch on until the present. His title is apropos. Alcott, Blake, The Rape of Palestine: A Mandate Chronology, Vol. 1 and 2, Zürich: Tredition, 2023. (From Amazon: Volume One; Volume Two.) Dr. Alcott is an ecological economist, Palestinian activist, and upon-a-time carpenter residing and working in Switzerland. His excellent work and interests may be found on his website. After reading Hawari’s book, as if it was ordained, I discovered Alcott and his books via Jeremy Salt’s sterling review of The Rape of Palestine at the Palestinian Chronicle. Of Alcott’s efforts, Salt wrote: “There are few works on Palestine of such scope. All the standard documents are here and analyzed anew but there are innumerable gems dug up by the author that the researcher will not have known about or has forgotten.” And the scope is vast. Salt referred to “the researcher” perhaps due to the nature of the material presented. It is not a work to be casually read. Well, in many ways it is, at intervals becoming a real page-turner. But there is a refined historicity and academic quality within the pages which, along with their Outlaws of the Marsh count, could be mildly off-putting to the cursory reader. None of this should bar anyone from obtaining and studying the copious history as assembled. Most fortunately, Alcott begins with a helpful section, “How to use this book.”
Alcott’s cheerful humor aside (and appreciated), he is correct. Think of it as an encyclopedia wherein specific facts await inspection based on the reader’s particular need or fancy. The 490(!) entries are sequentially set forth in the table of contents of each volume. All of these records are important, though the more critical among them are helpfully marked with an asterisk. Alcott also provides his methodology concerning the materials, his commentary, context, and appended matters. He is also correct, be forewarned, that there is sadness and shame residing within the documentation. However, for most readers, especially any guilt-deserving Westerners, I would hope the shock of the truth serves to change minds and, then, stir indignant protest. And now, I will slowly walk through a brief summary of all 490 transcripts. Or not. I slept well last night and I appear to have misplaced my pocket protector. No. Instead, I will merely present a short sampling. Even before the first official entry, Alcott provides a glimpse of a nascent Zionist movement that started no later than 1798, and continued into the Nineteenth Century, as recounted in 1919 by British anti-Zionist Jew Lucien Wolf: “... In 1840, when Mehemet Ali was driven out of Palestine and Syria by the Powers, the future of Palestine was open for discussion. … [U]ntil the time of Herzl all the most prominent protagonists of Zionism were Christians.” Id, at 21. The latter words in Wolf’s note might open a separate discussion regarding the links between Zionism and Christianity, especially certain of its Protestant elements, and American variants, along with other assorted strange fruits of the Enlightenment. However, Wolf also noted that the earnest modern Zionist movement had begun twenty years earlier in 1899. And in that year, where Alcott’s true count begins, Jerusalem’s mayor, Yusuf al-Khalidi, sent a letter to Rabbi Zadoc Kahn of France:
If one isn’t an American politician, a newly-arrived space alien, or a complete recluse, one knows that, the good intentions of God and man notwithstanding, since 1899, Palestine has had anything except peace. An aside: One of the many lies told repeatedly about Palestine is that it does not exist, it never existed, or that it didn’t exist until recently. The same goes for Palestinians themselves, a lie told far and wide by such degenerates as Newt Gingrich and Bezalel Smotrich. As one may see from the foregoing quotes, such a ridiculous assertion would have come as a surprise to al-Khalidi and Wolf, along with the Ottomans, the Crusaders, maybe the Mongols even, certainly the Imperial Romans (what else was meant by “Syria Palaestina”?), and, of course, the people of the Middle East. Furthermore, as to Zionists of both the Jewish and Judeo-”Christian” Evangelical kinds, the land of Israel they constantly proclaim rightly exists in place of Palestine doesn’t even match the boundaries of the wholly unrelated Biblical territory of a similar name prescribed in Joshua—to say nothing of the fantastical, ever-shifting idea of Greater Israel. Then again, some of the Zionists frequently ignore inconvenient or, shall we say, “undeciphered” parts of the Hebrew Bible and the Evangelicals have evidently read very little if any of the New Testament. This note may point towards that other discussion, and I digress. Perhaps the most famous, or infamous document in Alcott’s litany is the Balfour Declaration of 1917, a note from Lord Balfour to Lord Rothschild (yes, of that family) concerning property and lives neither had any claim to.
There’s another pesky reference to a place and a people that allegedly didn’t exist. But regardless of the intentions and sympathies of Balfour and George V, the following century would see existing non-Jewish communities deprived of virtually all civil and religious rights, a people cornered, hounded, and hunted towards extinction. I will now skip forward three decades into that process and engage a smidgen of literary comparison. By way of that comparison, and shifting gears, I’m going to try to demonstrate how useful Alcott’s book is in digging deeper into certain affairs. The following is just one example from a potential multitude. In Hawari’s story about her father Mahmoud, she writes briefly about the post-Ottoman British Mandate period. This span was supposedly temporary and transitional before control of Palestine was fully handed over to the Palestinians. Of course, all the while, London was scheming and blundering towards delivering Palestine from one form of colonization to another. Hawari follows up in subsequent sections via the eyes and experiences of her grandmother and great-grandmother. Regarding the establishment of Zionist occupation on May 14, 1948, she writes, “According to the mandate, the British were to hand over authority and assets to a governing local entity. But they didn’t. Their exit, while officially ending British rule in Palestine, was also an open invitation for the Zionists to take over the whole country.” The Stone House, “Dheeba’s Story,” e-book ed., at 27. Many of Alcott’s entries deal directly with the policies and deceptions behind this British treachery in allowing, even facilitating Zionist usurpation despite all contrary promises to the Palestinians. That includes the final item, number 490. As Palestinians tried to actively resist their pending disposition, their efforts were blocked by the British military. Confronted with English interdiction against a last-ditch effort to save Qatamon, and so losing the town, Ibrahim Abu-Dayeh pleaded with Izzat Tannous for diplomatic assistance with His Majesty’s forces. Tannous sadly replied, “‘No, my dear Ibrahim,’ I said, quoting an Arab proverb, ‘When the judge is your enemy, it is useless to appeal.’” The Rape of Palestine, Vol. 2, at 1,144. Here is an example of Alcott’s astute commentary, his words summarizing the feckless, biased British actions:
“Grandmothers and grandfathers, living their lives like you and me.” My suspicion upon reading Salt’s review was that Alcott would provide heavy factual backup for some of the emotional human stories Hawari related in stirring if necessarily concise form. He did and then some. I did not expect it, but was delighted to discover that he too possesses a keen ability to connect the reader’s mind and soul to even listless, heartless administrative functionary activities. There is a kind of brilliance in the book that slowly asserts itself via Alcott’s ability to both display an orderly chronology but to also link all the parts together in a nearly narrative fashion. He displayed his talent with the second-to-last asterisked entry, number 486, and the final words concerning the failed Mandate in Parliament on March 10, 1948. Creech Jones, de facto handler of the Palestinian “problem”, made stunning admissions about the end of English occupation in Palestine, the Mandate, betrayals, and all.
Alcott bridges and builds, adding, “The self-pity aside, Britain’s experience was indeed “tragic” in the literary sense that the seeds of devastation were present at the beginning – a sort of character flaw which made Britain dedicate itself to a ‘self-contradictory and unworkable’ experiment.” Id. He then goes on to show and dissect how Britain had always taken a side despite its supposed neutrality. And he shines a light on the fledgling United Nations’ fence-sitting, a position the body has essentially retained since 1948.
And since that year, as the British bowed out, other nations bowed in. While Britain and France would go on to provide some assistance to the Zionists, it was Joseph Stalin and the Soviet Union who were the first to recognize newly appropriated political Israel. But no country has done more or worse in slavish, virtually religious service, support, and allegiance to Israel than the United States. Alcott devotes Section XXV, in the Second Volume, to “U.S. Power,” with seventeen entries in all. Among them, the reader will discover Harry “S” Truman’s zeal for the Zionists’ expanded entry into Palestine. The man who acceded to dropping an atomic bomb on a Catholic Church in Japan had no problem doing something of a similar nature, if by other means, in the Levant. Given the total degeneration of America since then it is little wonder why some filth like Tim Walberg calls for treating Gaza like Nagasaki. As with the blood stains on Zionist hands, from the Stern Gang to King Bibi’s rampage against hospitals, schools, Mosques, Churches, and aid workers, so too does America drip with the blood of innocents slaughtered in perpetual conflict. The English, base progenitors of the insanely poor idea behind the Zionist occupation, stand as guilty as any. At the moment, the only British leader I can think of who acquits himself is George Galloway, and he still admits a deep shame concerning these deeply shameful matters. Many parties are guilty, for their actions and complicity. And still others bear eternal abashment, admitted or not, for their inaction and silence. Not among the shamed are South Africa, Yemen, and a few other groups worldwide. One of the few groups is composed of anti-Zionist Jews, some of whom are now being arrested in “free” and “democratic” Western countries like Germany for standing up and speaking out for Palestinian justice. It’s hard evidence of a mad world when Germans attack Jews, for the false crime of possibly offending other Jews, doing so using anti-Nazi laws as their paper-thin justification. More to the point, indisputable proof of collective insanity and tolerance of sheer wickedness abounds. En route to doing something, anything to help, decent people want and need to make sense of the sad circumstances. And making sense of any complex system, circumstance, or problem requires a base of information. That is what Blake Alcott had delivered. His extreme dedication, utter competence, and artful presentation will reveal to the reader an open window to history, policy, drama, tragedy, and the human condition. Let the light shine in, we need it. I heartily endorse and recommend The Rape Of Palestine for anyone, regardless of position or location, interested in the injustice visited upon the Palestinian People. Really, this battle is for universal actuality and human dignity. Buy the book, read it, and understand it, a commanding and fascinating compilation. *Reviewer’s Note: Since first ordering Dr. Alcott’s book, and while drafting my review, I have spoken with the author via email several times. In fact, I now consider him a friend. And, of course, I greatly admire his knowledge, expertise, and devotion to the truth. As such, I have extended an open invitation for him (and several of his expert acquaintances) to add to this important discussion in any way and at any time he or they please. I’d also ask you, my dear reader, to do whatever you can to spread the word about this subject matter and help promote peace in any manner possible. There really are no small or unappreciated steps.
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Friends, I have one heckuva book review coming! It’s about a titanic two-volume history work of critical international importance. Learn more about this must-read material and its learned author soon. In the meanwhile, today, I was going to style this column, “The Self-Immolation Of America.” For reasons. Some of them were recently handled well by Greg Cook at Crisis. Please read that. It was also driven by a reply to a rare comment I left last fall on the Москва и москвичи YouTube channel. For my explanation of how globalist clowns ruined Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and America, I got 850+ “likes” and 52 replies. Most were of the <<Спасибо, брат!>> variety. But one came in lately that kind of stung: <<Эх вы американцы...ПОЗОР вам и вашему правительству!!!!!!!!!!!>> Or, “Oh, you Americans… SHAME on you and your government!!!!!!!!!!!” You know it’s bad when there are more than three exclamation points. There’s really no good come-back for that. I don’t feel personal shame as I’ve spent decades fighting the decline. As for my people, I feel a degree of pity. What Aaron Bushnell and Maxwell Azzarello did literally, the bulk of Americans have done, or allowed figuratively. A mess, writ large. For the government, and what lurks behind it, the feeling is nothing but white-hot hatred. But I understand the general disdain from many in the outside world. Then somewhere along the way, a couple of ideas converged around Isfahan, Iran, the city that was the inspiration for Duke Ellington’s classic 1967 piece of the same name. A few days ago, Mossad agents inside Iran launched what might be the most feeble retaliatory strike in history, a couple of toy drones deployed against an S-300 battery outside Isfahan. There was no damage, Iran laughed it off, and even Ben “Genocide G” Gvir called it “lame”. (Ouch.) Pepe Escobar, whom I admire immensely, posted a theory about a thwarted EMP attack. While I’m open to the possibility, I just don’t, as of yet, and with the information provided, see it as plausible. I have numerous technical, mathematical, and altitude concerns. However, if it did happen as reported, then it’s the most important story virtually no one is talking about. There’s more, of course, but what does it matter at the moment? Independently, I’d just read something at IRNA about Isfahan and its Yara Bookhouse. The store’s owner, Mohammad Reza Vaez Shahrestani, is concerned about the undercutting of small bookstores by bigger outlets and societal trends. Luckily, he appears to have a solution. I also looked into him, and he’s very interesting, a PhD philosopher and educator. Kindly entertain the mind with his summary of Iranian poet Forough Farrokhzad’s Does your ‘Murican town have such a bookstore? Does it have any bookstores? (Mine does not!) Amerika, the GAE, is a bright, shining bastion of freedom and democracy. Usury tempered with sodomy, etc. In the GAE, dope n’ wine moms take their little sons to libraries and yankee military bases to be victimized and molested by sodomite freaks in gaudy dresses and whore makeup. You know, the way it should be in our continent-spanning Sodom and Gomorrah? USA! USA! U-ess-eh… But, in unholy, unenlightened, and backward Iran, mothers take their sons to Yara for philosophy classes. She (and I bet she’s pretty) only rated the food a "2" but that's neither here nor there. Dr. Shahrestani runs this fine program, one that might be worth reading about and maybe even replicating where possible. As for Iran in general, the MSM, airhead pundits, and so many political rodents tell us horrific tall tales about Iran. Squeaker of the House, Mikey Johnson (R-hell), says Iran is part of the new “Axis of Evil” along with Russia and China. I remind one and all that, statistically insignificant outlier exceptions aside, there are only two kinds of Republicans. Their two primary archetypes frequently overlap, say, when projecting about an axis of evil. That faux axis appears the opposite of evil, as noted recently by Russia’s Mufti Anar Ramazanov, in an interview with IRNA: “Russian Muslims and Christians are now fighting together against the forces of Satan…” The people fighting for the other side keep telling us lies, such as that Iran is a religiously intolerant country. That, I suppose, is why Yara is virtually surrounded by Churches. Yara’s the little dot on Dr. Shariati St., bottom-right, on the following map. Iran is a majority Shia Islamic society, but all those Churches have been there for centuries providing spiritual homes for a variety of Christians. Isfahan also has several Synagogues for the city’s Jewish community, some parts of which have been present in Persia for twenty-five centuries. I may be mistaken, but one would think if Iran was so intolerant, then these communities might have packed up and left some time ago. One would also wonder why religious minorities have a number of dedicated seats in Tehran’s Islamic Consultative Assembly (aka, Parliament). One might also call into question the honesty of people like Mikey Johnson (R-hell), but let’s keep moving. The "Metro Station" shown on the map, not far from the dot, must be, as our clown masters would have us believe, some kind of third-world dump, probably a dump where the trains are pulled by camels. In fact, they’d probably insist Iran has no trains, subways, electricity, or any reason for existing outside of making trouble for ‘Murica and the Zionists. But, to make sure, let’s take a look inside, and— Hark! What’s this?! For reference, Isfahan is Iran’s third largest city. The GAE’s equivalent is Chicago. Giving our clowns their due, it appears these Persian losers can't even employ bums to attack people and urinate on the platform as they do in the Windy City. Take that, Iran! That’s enough for now. I think we've been lied to yet again. We can be ashamed, angry, or sad, but the ruinous, dyscivilizational, and dehumanizing process our pet liars keep us living in won’t end until we end it. Start by turning off the lie machines. Maybe throw a book at the liars. Let’s start to get their existential evil out of our lifeworld. Deo vindice. This piece was published at Perrin Lovett on April 26, 2024.
Late last week, Iran changed the paradigm in the Middle East when it retaliated against the Zionist Entity occupying Palestine for an earlier Zionist strike against an Iranian consulate in Syria and many other previous provocations. Using hundreds of drones, cruise missiles, and ballistic missiles, launched in sequences to ensure they all arrived at roughly the same time, Iran accomplished several things. It tested and overwhelmed Zionist air defense capabilities. It demonstrated it can conduct powerful, precise operations at a great distance. It evidently tested new hypersonic glide vehicle technology, something similar to Russia’s Avangard weapon, if slower, smaller, and far less lethal. Iran partially eliminated assets of the IGF (Israeli Genocide Force) used during the Syrian attack. Those damaged targets include the IGF air bases at Ramon and Nevatim, and allegedly, an intelligence and radar site near Golan, and the IGF air intelligence headquarters in Tel Aviv. Tehran’s retaliation looked very much like the kind of precision exclamation point response they delivered to the GAE in early 2020. Now as then, the Empire, the Zionists, and their media puppets spin the same lies and Hasbara: 99% of Iran’s missiles were intercepted, there was no damage, and there were no casualties. Iran notified all relevant parties so as to minimize civilian harm during their demonstration. A seven-year-old Bedouin girl was either killed or injured when she was struck by debris from a downed projectile. A tragedy, though she might be the only Bedouin the zionists and luciferian clowns have ever feigned concern for. As at the GAE’s al-Assad AB in 2020, moderate to substantial damage was inflicted on the IGF’s bases. And there was no stopping it despite ample, supposedly effective air defenses. 99% of the drones probably were shot down, and that is why they were deployed—as decoys. But it appears that two-thirds of the ballistic missiles hit their targets. Here’s a video of one such successful strike. It may be the first video evidence of a hypersonic warhead maneuvering to evade an air defense missile. If that was what happened, then Iran has joined Russia in a very rare and elite club. The Zionists have vowed to retaliate, though where, when, and, most importantly, how remains to be seen. Iran has acknowledged this possibility, is by all accounts prepared for it, and has promised to repay if necessary. In short, Tehran sent a message to the Zionist occupiers that their days of running roughshod over the region are over. A similar message was conveyed to the Yankee Empire. The Global American Empire is at its end, being too stretched, too weak, and too opposed to continue dominating the entire world. I just read The Other Side Of The Wall: A Palestinian Christian Narrative Of Lament And Hope by Rev. Munther Isaac of Bethlehem (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2020). He’s the Lutheran Pastor Tucker Carlson recently interviewed and who has been speaking out against IGF violence and Western Christian indifference during the late Gazacaust. On page 64, he writes about empires:
Isaac’s is a book I highly recommend, and those words of his should sound rather familiar to Americans. On their watch and in their name, the GAE has committed atrocity after atrocity for decades. In the process, as it caused incalculable damage worldwide, it burned itself out and reduced Americans to mere numbers, increasingly impoverished and despondent numbers. It is now beginning to collapse, a process that will be followed by the eventual dissolution of the United States as it is currently organized. It will likely be a very messy happening, most painful for Americans, though it is a blessing for the world at large. As-is, in its death throes, the foreign elite controlling the GAE are frantically stirring as much trouble as they can, particularly in two major fronts of the existing global conflict, while planning a third major provocation and participating in many others of lesser character. None of this is of any benefit to the American people.
I decided to map out how far away a few of these pointless conflicts are from Oby’s in Starkville, Mississippi. One can simply adjust the distances to where one lives. Neither the Zionists nor the GAE can successfully wage war against Iran. The Zionists are already losing to the much less powerful foes of Hamas and Hezbollah. The GAE has for the past eight decades shown it cannot win, or really even fight a war against anyone. Tehran is 7,000 miles from Starkville. Jerusalem is 6,600 miles away, and Gaza is a hair less. And the Bab al-Mandab Strait at the southern entrance of the Red Sea is 8,000 miles out. The Empire’s Ukrainian project is shaping up to be its worst defeat ever. For the rulers of the West, it was critical and its loss to Russia will have permanent consequences. Americans, who probably still couldn’t find Ukraine on a map, should know that Kharkiv, a city destined to fall and rejoin Mother Russia, is 5,800 away from all those hot po’ boys and cold beers. As if running two losing offensives isn’t offensive enough, the lords of Washington, DC (Devil’s Coven) fantasize about a third loser against China. China, along with Russia and other BRICS+ countries, is already beating the brakes off the GAE economically and geopolitically. One supposes the neoclowns won’t be happy until Beijing adds a military component to the equation similar to Russia’s. Much of this silently has to do with keeping Japan and South Korea in the GAE’s orbit. But it's popularly sold as a conflict over Taiwan. Taipei is almost 8,000 miles from Starkville. At the moment, those measurements cover the major theaters. But there are many, many more: Serbia, Niger, Sudan, North Korea, Venezuela, etc. Add those future or unfolding disasters to the past list that includes Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, and more. None of these misadventures helped or served Americans in any way. The lie was and is always the same—it’s all about America’s national interests. The lie comes in because there is no national interest, in the conflicts, or in general. There are no national values. No valid national government. No solvent national economy. As Paul Graham said, there isn’t even a national nation. There is one more major front. It’s the only one that truly matters to Americans. It’s America itself. Americans should see at least two distinct though related existential threats to themselves and their muddled polyglot association. Washington dismisses both threats, and in their place, and on strict behalf of the elites, substitutes the American people themselves. The first threat, which may be the largest of its kind in history, is the ongoing foreign invasion of the former United States. At random, I selected the Nuevo Laredo border crossing along America’s non-existent border. That point in Texas is only 750 miles from Starkville. Unlike the foregoing places of comparison, the border is much closer. There are no oceans or impenetrable natural barriers separating it from Mississippi or any other state. In fact, potholes and faulty bridges aside, they’re all linked by superhighways, railways, and air routes. By sheer coincidence, Washington, Devil’s Coven is also only 750 miles away. New York City is approximately 950 miles from Starkville. I list those cities because they represent, more than any other places, the seats of the second extreme threat facing Americans, the capitals of the clown’s empire. Once the international operations collapse and cease, the elites will only have Americans left to bully, dehumanize, rob, and murder. They hate and have hated Americans more than any other adversary. They’re really going to want to vent their frustrations on their last viable targets. How far away from Starkville is the true danger? It’s way too close for comfort. At some point, maybe after another rigged election and financial depression, Mississippians, Southerners, and other Americans will finally realize who their genuine enemy is and has been. None of the overseas conflicts concerned Americans, but Americans have nonetheless allowed themselves to become involved in them. In many ways, Americans are guilty of some of the shameful barbarities in those conflicts. That price will be paid and is already being felt at home. A silver lining is that the resistance in all those foreign lands may serve as both general inspiration and technical demonstration for Americans. Once they wake up. And once they do, the real prize is that their true enemies’ threat and power are largely illusory. The demons Americans suffer from turn out to be small, weak, rather stupid, and relatively few in number. For optimistic reference, the surface of the Sun is 93 million miles from Starkville. I suggest that would make an ideal, if implausible place to exile the elite enemy. I cannot calculate the distance from Starkville to hell. But that’s where the clowns are eventually going. None of their victims need to accompany them. Oby’s is zero miles from Oby’s. Once victory is achieved, it is the ideal place for a celebration. Deo vindice. Last fall, I had the privilege of reviewing Eschatological Optimism by the late Daria Dugina (1992-2022), a book I learned of thanks to a very good friend. Earlier this year, I was reminded by another great and lovely friend that a second posthumous Dugina book was forthcoming in English from PRAV. One simply cannot have enough literarily in-tune friends in this life. Nor can one get enough of Russia’s brilliant and ever-rising star of intellect and steely determination. It’s a shorter work, only 70 pages. Yet each and every sentence in it, every word lifts the spirit, touches the heart, and engages the mind. It is a compact gem, expertly translated, compiled, and edited by Jafe Arnold and John Stachelski. I strongly recommend it to anyone interested in life, death, philosophy, and the eternal battle between Divine good and lowly evil. I also suggest the book would make a fine gift for, say, a college student or a young adult. Or for anyone. In Arnold’s excellent Foreword, I learned of yet another Dugina book, now only available in Russian, Топи и выси моего сердца (Depths and Heights of My Heart), ACT, 2023. I recommend that one even without having read it—a feat I mean to accomplish once I achieve perhaps A2/B1 Russian proficiency. As for For A Radical Life, it is a radical and informative mental excursion presented in short, referenced paragraph form. The collected material draws from sources in Eschatological Optimism with which the reader may already be familiar, along with assorted media quotes and personal diary entries. As for the latter, the reader certainly has not previously considered the meanings of those elements. One such entry from 2019, on page 46, appears as the back cover quote: “Wherever there is death, there is truth.” These words, or any similar sentiment, from this particular author, while deeply meaningful, necessarily leave the reader pained and sorrowed. Arnold pointedly gets to the exact truth behind one horrible death in a sea of carnage: “Her life was cut short by a car bombing carried out as part of Ukrainian special operations initiated, armed, trained, and funded by the CIA.” For A Radical Life, at 4. He notes the wicked powers of the postmodern West have, by their murder, “opened a Pandora’s box.” We will briefly look inside it, ere the end of this review. Dugina self-identifies as a warrior, an intellectual, steel, a proclaimer of “No!”, and the “Minister of Defense.” The reader will learn the context of these labels upon a full perusal. I was very happy to see this new book repeat a declaration I’ve praised before and what may be my favorite quote by anyone this century: “In the conditions of the modern world, any stubborn and desperate resistance to this world, any uncompromising struggle against liberalism, globalism, and Satanism, is heroism.” Id, at 22. Dugina was and is a hero, physically (and only physically) struck down by the liberalism, globalism, and satanism of the West. However, something else she wrote may poetically place their heinous deeds in proper perspective. In her diary, on September 2, 2021, she wrote, “I once said that I’m becoming and will become Antigone. Prophecy and recognition are coming to be. I am becoming Antigone.” Id, at 51 (emphasis mine). And in a way, she may have well become like that precise character of Sophocles. Antigone’s death in her eponymous tragic play is brought about by her reluctant if unrelenting uncle Creon, King of Thebes, a harsh punishment for her defiance of his order not to mourn or tend her deceased brother, Polynices. Though Creon does eventually relent and abate his judgment, it is already too late. The heroine is dead. Her death prompts the death of Haemon, Creon’s son and Antigone’s fiancé. Haemon’s death begets the death of his mother, Queen Eurydice. By tormenting Antigone to her death, the king inadvertently brings down his own ruling house. Creon is a somewhat inconsistent character in general, within and without Antigone, and his placement into my analogy is maybe an equal contrariety. Being a tragic figure himself, he is far more sympathetic than the rulers of the postmodern West. However, if we transpose Dugina’s diary entry upon the play, then, as she becomes Antigone, the West becomes and represents Creon. Extending the imagined interchange, it is conceivable that, in conjunction with so many other crimes, the West may have sealed its fate by murdering Daria Dugina. When NATO and the USA are catastrophically defeated in Ukraine and elsewhere, their losses may be traceable, at least symbolically, back to her car bomb murder. The final lines of Antigone belong to the choregos herald*: “Wise conduct hath command of happiness before all else, and piety to Heaven must be preserved. High boastings of the proud bring sorrow to the height to punish pride. A lesson men shall learn when they are old.” Creon was a victim of allegiance to his own “rules-based” order. Nearly driven mad with remorse, nonetheless, he did learn his sad lesson. Yet his understanding came at the exorbitant cost of his posterity, his lineage destroyed with unyielding irony. Unlike Creon, the rulers of the faux West are evil rather than tragic. We may hold little hope that they learn anything from the consequences of their misdeeds and their inevitable defeat. But they will be defeated. Any one of you may participate in the pending triumph over this current iteration of the devil’s transient empire of lies and death. One simple way is to join with the wit, charm, wisdom, sorrow, joy, and iron defiance of Daria Dugina. Read her Meditations and live your own radical life. *The symbolism keeps flowing. On February 26, 2024, in Moscow, Princess Vittoria Alliata di Villafranca noted of Daria Dugina: “It was only when, confronting the Empire of Chaos, Daria raised her name Platonova like a flag to affirm that being a woman today means choosing between two opposite archetypes, that finally the enemy noticed her.” Again, may their attention to her detail destroy them! Of course, the raised name of “Platonova,” of the “new Plato,” is essentially self-explanatory with even a little understanding of the philosophy of Daria Dugina. In the foregoing context concerning Antigone, it is most interesting to also know that the old Plato was upon a time himself counted among the Athenian choregoi. There comes a time when too many coincidences begin to look like prescient ordination. Regardless of the allegorical, raise your flag, sound your chorus, and be a radical! Deo vindice! Here is a very short list of some of the news, thought, and analysis sites I read on a regular basis. I stopped with twenty-one of them, representing about a quarter of those I frequent. The reader may be familiar with some of them and others less so. If one fails to find one’s pet source on the list, then at least one already knows about that source. There are no Western mainstream corporate sources included. With America destroyed, there is little reason to put much practical emphasis on American political, economic, or social analysis. I trust the reader is familiar with the Drudge Report, the New York Times, the Daily Mail, RT, Der Spiegel, and similar popular sites which at times may or may not be accurate or useful. I also suggest that the reader is likely comfortable with, and more knowledgeable than me about, local news sources of all kinds where the reader lives. Several of the following are written in languages other than English. A few contain built-in multilingual versions; the same source sometimes runs different news features for different demographics. As such, and as I doubt anyone is fluent in all the languages, I highly recommend the auto-translation feature in better browsers or the translation services available from Yandex or Google. My experience is that using these services is at least “good enough”. I roughly grouped the following by subject or geographic area. More than a few of these forums also host video shows which may be of interest. Have fun with it. News and CommentaryVox Populi. If I only had one place to check for daily commentary, it would be Vox’s blog. Reminiscence of the Future. Andrei Martyanov understands military affairs, geopolitics, economics, and more. Strategic Culture. Multipolar-leaning international analysis and news. The Duran. Anti-clown world insight from two of the best guys out there. Sonar21. Larry Johnson is honest, affable, and knows clandestine affairs like no one else. Scott Ritter. Ritter does give Johnson a run for his money. Geopolitika. Professor Dugin and Leonid Savin weekly contribute to the site they run so well, providing a forum for voices that need to be heard. Moon of Alabama. Just take a look. Give the setup a moment. The Saker (Latin America). Andrei Raevsky ran one of the best geostrategic sites on the web. This blog keeps the spirit going. The Unz Review. Information overload. Books, stats, and articles from everywhere. General Financial/EconomicZero Hedge. The Western economies are collapsing. As such, there’s little need for “financial” advice. Yet, here’s what’s left. Michael Hudson. One of the two best economists in the world and one of the few who understands economics. RussiaTASS. Short, official statements. |
Огнями реклам Неоновых ламп Бьет город мне в спину, торопит меня А я не спешу, Я этим дышу И то, что мое, ему не отнять. Минуту еще, мой ветер не стих, Мне нравится здесь в Королевстве Кривых. Здесь деньги не ждут, Когда их сожгут, В их власти, дать счастье и счастье отнять. Но только не мне, |
Picnic was the band set to perform on the evening of Friday, March 22, 2024, at the Crocus City Hall theater in suburban Moscow. As the reader may know, the performance and hundreds of lives were abruptly interrupted before the band took the stage.
English with commentary:
English with commentary:
Over the lights of advertising Neon lamps |
Crocus City Hall, and the surrounding Krasnogorsk neighborhood, are big, busy, ultra-modern places. Glass, lights, excitement, etc. A venue that fits the song.
The city hits me in the back, rushing me And I'm not in a hurry, I breathe it And that which is mine, cannot be taken away. |
Moscow is like a clean, civilized New York or Los Angeles. There’s a constant rush and rumble of urban humanity. In the song’s city, our lyrical protagonist takes the hurry-scurry in stride. He doesn’t let the hectic pace get ahead of him. His sensibility about and enjoyment of the scene cannot be taken by the tempo or rigor of whatever happens. Similarly and in general, Russian life and the Russian spirit in Moscow cannot be taken away. By anyone.
A minute more, my wind is not quiet, I like it here in the Kingdom of Curves. |
Life can be like that little girl’s adventure. Ordinary times bereft of calamity can still twist and turn. However, if one is in it and the setting happens to be among the most beautiful, wonderful places on earth, then what’s not to like?
Money is not waiting here, When they are burned, In their power, give happiness and happiness to take away. But not for me |
No, the money was in Kiev or London or somewhere. Burn they did. Calculated, though still mindless violence is a kind of power, the happiness of vampire clowns, augmented by depriving good people of genuine joy and camaraderie. But not for the song’s protagonist. Not for Russia. Not for honest, decent people. Let the evil choke on their wickedness; the righteous will live on determinedly.
My interpretation may miss the mark by a kilometer, but the symbolism of it all struck me as important and seemingly purposeful. Picnics—eating outside, not the group—are fun but they’ve been known to attract ants. Ants are known to steal food, annoy, and sometimes bite. A scout ant finds the picnic and chirps or emits pheromones to alert the rest. Then they show up in force.
On March 7, 2024, the US empire issued a mysterious mass casualty alert for the next 48 hours in Moscow. Oddly enough, on that very day, a scout ant showed up and surveyed the Crocus complex. Shaman was supposed to sing at the center within the next 48 hours, and he did. However, his event was allegedly guarded by armed security. The scout ant emitted no chemical markers or sounds. The Picnic concert was guarded by unarmed security, presenting a softer target. And the ants attacked. While Moscow and the world were in shock, the US empire immediately, within one hour, told two lies: 1) Ukraine wasn’t involved, and 2) the ants were from ISIS or ISIS-K. ISIS and ISIS-K might as well be registered trademarks of the CIA. We know the empire was lying because it is the empire of lies and it said something. In this case, as with the original lie, there was a small grain of truth within the Red Herring deception. The empire that essentially created ISIS, its Syrian and Afghan variants, would probably be in an honest position to know if its creation planned to carry out an attack. Especially if the empire ordered and planned the attack.
The reader likely knows much of the late tactical developments. Around 140 civilians were murdered, as many as 200 were wounded, and the Crocus theater was destroyed. The mercenary terrorist ants and many of their associates, all or most from Tajikistan, were quickly detained by security forces. While I was initially skeptical about direct ISIS involvement, I did allow that somewhat connected actors from the group might have played some role. This was confirmed by President Putin, that the attack was directly committed by radical Islamists, though by those acting inexplicably during Ramadan. However, as for the indirect connections, he said, “We know whose hands this atrocity was committed against Russia and its people. We are interested in who the customer is.” Cui bono?
Suspicion naturally falls on Ukraine and its NATO backers, specifically the US and UK. FSB Chief Alexander Bortnikov said as much: “We believe that this is true. In any case, we are now talking about the factual information we have. This is general information, but they have a long record of this sort.” There is the fact of the ant pre-planning the attack on the day the possibility of an attack was mentioned by a likely chief supporter. There was a rumor that the ants were recruited via a Telegram channel and that they met and coordinated with Ukraine at the Ukrainian embassy in Tajikistan about a mission of the “International Legion.” There’s the fact that this attack does not fit the established pattern of ordinary ISIS activity—during Ramadan, with a determined effort to flee the scene rather than be martyred, and payment that suggests a hired hit job instead of Jihad. The mercenary ants were allegedly promised 500,000 rubles ($5,500) each, in reality receiving only half upfront, to wantonly murder random people. There is the fact they were apprehended trying to cross into Ukraine. There is the fact that as Ukraine and NATO continue to lose horribly on the battlefield, terrorist attacks are their only means of trying to harm Russia. There’s the fact that the Western media instantaneously began parroting a series of ridiculous lies and distortions that would be the envy of any fictional evil mirror.
In addition to all of the foregoing, the ants were painstakingly captured alive. They are talking or will talk. Russian intelligence is obviously far ahead of my estimations and guesses; they likely already have substantial evidence as to whom the ants worked for. The customers, if one will. Or the queens, in ant-speak. Nothing that happened at Crocus degrades Russia’s efforts or abilities. With Russia already visibly quickening its progress in the SMO, this episode will certainly heighten their resolve and the scope and pace of their actions. In fact, it already looks like that is happening. Time will tell exactly how it all unfolds, though there really isn’t much doubt.
Nor is there any doubt there are all kinds of people in the world. Some are heroes and some are sociopathic losers. Some of the losers evidently congregate at a Kiev bar aptly called, in English, Offensive. They certainly are, naming some fried snack “Crocus” just a few days after the attack. Offensive might be thought of as an ant hill if it turns out to be connected in some way to these hideous events. If so, then perhaps someone should kick it. Maybe with a Khinzal boot? No one in any position of power needs my input. Still, I remind all that when keeping ants away from the picnic blanket, sometimes one just has to spray and kill all of them.
Yet, there are many more good people around. One of them is fifteen-year-old Islam Khalilov, a legitimate Muslim who works part-time at Crocus. If part of the queen customer’s intention was to sow a little division between religious groups in Russia, then Mr. Khalilov did his part to preemptively undo the plan. He’s credited with saving 100 lives by quickly ushering confused patrons towards safety—while ignoring his own. When asked about his personal risk, the young man simply said, “It’s better to sacrifice yourself than to let a hundred people die.” A hero. Shaman also stepped up like a true patriot, offering condolences and vowing to pay all funeral expenses and extraneous medical costs. Behind these two champions, behind the police, firefighters, doctors, nurses, FSB, and military personnel who did their jobs, and behind Vladimir Putin and his government, there are another 150 million strong men and women who will not be frightened, divided, or defeated.
When they are victorious, or even before full victory is realized, I would very much like to join them once the Crocus theater is rebuilt for a concert. I’d happily take Shaman, KINO, or anyone else as the featured entertainment. In light of the circumstances, that especially includes Picnic. I’ll close with a link to their 2022 concert at Crocus.
Deo vindice.
My interpretation may miss the mark by a kilometer, but the symbolism of it all struck me as important and seemingly purposeful. Picnics—eating outside, not the group—are fun but they’ve been known to attract ants. Ants are known to steal food, annoy, and sometimes bite. A scout ant finds the picnic and chirps or emits pheromones to alert the rest. Then they show up in force.
On March 7, 2024, the US empire issued a mysterious mass casualty alert for the next 48 hours in Moscow. Oddly enough, on that very day, a scout ant showed up and surveyed the Crocus complex. Shaman was supposed to sing at the center within the next 48 hours, and he did. However, his event was allegedly guarded by armed security. The scout ant emitted no chemical markers or sounds. The Picnic concert was guarded by unarmed security, presenting a softer target. And the ants attacked. While Moscow and the world were in shock, the US empire immediately, within one hour, told two lies: 1) Ukraine wasn’t involved, and 2) the ants were from ISIS or ISIS-K. ISIS and ISIS-K might as well be registered trademarks of the CIA. We know the empire was lying because it is the empire of lies and it said something. In this case, as with the original lie, there was a small grain of truth within the Red Herring deception. The empire that essentially created ISIS, its Syrian and Afghan variants, would probably be in an honest position to know if its creation planned to carry out an attack. Especially if the empire ordered and planned the attack.
The reader likely knows much of the late tactical developments. Around 140 civilians were murdered, as many as 200 were wounded, and the Crocus theater was destroyed. The mercenary terrorist ants and many of their associates, all or most from Tajikistan, were quickly detained by security forces. While I was initially skeptical about direct ISIS involvement, I did allow that somewhat connected actors from the group might have played some role. This was confirmed by President Putin, that the attack was directly committed by radical Islamists, though by those acting inexplicably during Ramadan. However, as for the indirect connections, he said, “We know whose hands this atrocity was committed against Russia and its people. We are interested in who the customer is.” Cui bono?
Suspicion naturally falls on Ukraine and its NATO backers, specifically the US and UK. FSB Chief Alexander Bortnikov said as much: “We believe that this is true. In any case, we are now talking about the factual information we have. This is general information, but they have a long record of this sort.” There is the fact of the ant pre-planning the attack on the day the possibility of an attack was mentioned by a likely chief supporter. There was a rumor that the ants were recruited via a Telegram channel and that they met and coordinated with Ukraine at the Ukrainian embassy in Tajikistan about a mission of the “International Legion.” There’s the fact that this attack does not fit the established pattern of ordinary ISIS activity—during Ramadan, with a determined effort to flee the scene rather than be martyred, and payment that suggests a hired hit job instead of Jihad. The mercenary ants were allegedly promised 500,000 rubles ($5,500) each, in reality receiving only half upfront, to wantonly murder random people. There is the fact they were apprehended trying to cross into Ukraine. There is the fact that as Ukraine and NATO continue to lose horribly on the battlefield, terrorist attacks are their only means of trying to harm Russia. There’s the fact that the Western media instantaneously began parroting a series of ridiculous lies and distortions that would be the envy of any fictional evil mirror.
In addition to all of the foregoing, the ants were painstakingly captured alive. They are talking or will talk. Russian intelligence is obviously far ahead of my estimations and guesses; they likely already have substantial evidence as to whom the ants worked for. The customers, if one will. Or the queens, in ant-speak. Nothing that happened at Crocus degrades Russia’s efforts or abilities. With Russia already visibly quickening its progress in the SMO, this episode will certainly heighten their resolve and the scope and pace of their actions. In fact, it already looks like that is happening. Time will tell exactly how it all unfolds, though there really isn’t much doubt.
Nor is there any doubt there are all kinds of people in the world. Some are heroes and some are sociopathic losers. Some of the losers evidently congregate at a Kiev bar aptly called, in English, Offensive. They certainly are, naming some fried snack “Crocus” just a few days after the attack. Offensive might be thought of as an ant hill if it turns out to be connected in some way to these hideous events. If so, then perhaps someone should kick it. Maybe with a Khinzal boot? No one in any position of power needs my input. Still, I remind all that when keeping ants away from the picnic blanket, sometimes one just has to spray and kill all of them.
Yet, there are many more good people around. One of them is fifteen-year-old Islam Khalilov, a legitimate Muslim who works part-time at Crocus. If part of the queen customer’s intention was to sow a little division between religious groups in Russia, then Mr. Khalilov did his part to preemptively undo the plan. He’s credited with saving 100 lives by quickly ushering confused patrons towards safety—while ignoring his own. When asked about his personal risk, the young man simply said, “It’s better to sacrifice yourself than to let a hundred people die.” A hero. Shaman also stepped up like a true patriot, offering condolences and vowing to pay all funeral expenses and extraneous medical costs. Behind these two champions, behind the police, firefighters, doctors, nurses, FSB, and military personnel who did their jobs, and behind Vladimir Putin and his government, there are another 150 million strong men and women who will not be frightened, divided, or defeated.
When they are victorious, or even before full victory is realized, I would very much like to join them once the Crocus theater is rebuilt for a concert. I’d happily take Shaman, KINO, or anyone else as the featured entertainment. In light of the circumstances, that especially includes Picnic. I’ll close with a link to their 2022 concert at Crocus.
Deo vindice.
Some years ago, a young adult me was in an elevator in a US State capitol. I found myself in the company of a giant rodent wearing a suit. I’m not sure if it was a Republican or a Democrat, or if there’s a difference, but it was middle-aged, greasy, smarmy, and malodorous. In an instant and for no discernable reason, the creature gave poor advice unasked for. I suppose that’s one of the things greasy, talking political rodents do in elevators. It said, “Make your money first. Then have children.” As it spoke, its small, beady eyes furtively scanned this way and that. It wrinkled its snout and snorted. Mercifully, the doors then opened and the oily beast scurried away, likely in pursuit of other people’s money or children. Or maybe just cheese.
I did not want the creature’s advice, though, at the time, I was already kind of following it. Americans made many terrible mistakes and I was no exception. Sometime through the following decades, I happily forgot that sad episode, only recalling it last week when I heard good, and thus, opposite advice discussed between two good men. On or about March 13, 2024, President Vladimir Putin sat down for an extended interview with Dmitry Kiselev. It was a real meeting between a real leader and a real journalist, something practically unknown in the West.
Please watch the discussion or read the transcript in Russian. Or read the transcript in English. Or listen to an English-subtitled translation.
Mr. Kiselev coaxed an interesting story out of Russia’s humble and rather soft-spoken leader. When Putin’s children were little, there was a house fire. Putin braved the flames to rescue his babies. Only once they were all safe outside, did he remember his cash money was burning inside. The men agreed this illustrated the point that the correct order is children first, and money second.
Unlike Putin’s earlier interview with Tucker Carlson, this one largely dealt with Russian domestic policy and governance issues. Families with children was a theme Putin raised over and over. In Russia, as in all nations that want to survive, great societal concentration is placed on facilitating, easing, and maximizing the lives of families with children. In degenerate places like the fallen US, great emphasis is placed on maximizing profit for usurers. That was the problem I addressed in last week’s column.
Again, usury is the fuel and substance of globalism and financial capitalism. It is a slow, torturous form of premeditated murder, and it may be thought of as the hallmark or standard of malicious, neocolonial Werewestern evil. Real Westerners cannot say they weren’t warned: “The stranger that liveth with thee in the land, shall rise up over thee, and shall be higher: and thou shalt go down, and be lower. He shall lend to thee, and thou shalt not lend to him. He shall be as the head, and thou shalt be the tail.” Deuteronomy 28:43-44. In his Inferno, the Divine Comedy, Dante placed usurers in the third ring of the seventh level of hell. They are below and worse than violent murderers, and reside permanently with blasphemers and sodomites on a sandy plain ever pelted by a rain of hellfire. Usury, Dante and Virgil observe, offends both God’s divine goodness and the following art of God’s nature. See Canto XI (for those like me, unskilled in Italian, I recommend Jean and the late Robert Hollander’s exemplary English translations of the Comedy, 2000-2007).
Usury may also be thought of as a form of vampirism. While Dracula was primarily concerned with controlling, corrupting, and destroying society, he did so from a position of relative material wealth. Even his nobler and immensely more likable literary predecessor, Varney, was driven in no small way by his desire to reclaim certain monies and retain the higher material lifestyle money affords. This comparison leads me back to something President Putin said, a now-famous comment of simply nuclear rhetoric.
Not quite an hour and a half into the conversation, when asked by Kiselev about his role in championing the hopes and aspirations of billions of decent souls around the planet against the wicked depravity of the Western elites, Putin said:
Нашу борьбу за свою независимость и истинный суверенитет они связывают со своими чаяниями на свой собственный суверенитет и независимое развитие. Но это усугубляется тем, что в западных элитах очень сильно желание заморозить существующее несправедливое положение вещей в международных делах. Они привыкли столетиями набивать брюхо человеческой плотью, а карманы деньгами. Но они должны понять, что бал вампиров заканчивается. |
That is, in English:
They associate our struggle for our independence and true sovereignty with their aspirations for their own sovereignty and independent development. But this is aggravated by the fact that there is a very strong desire in Western elites to freeze the current unjust state of affairs in international affairs. They've spent centuries filling their bellies with human flesh and their pockets with money. But they must realise that the vampire ball is ending. |
They then briefly discussed ordinary people sensing the truth above and through the never-ending lies of the elites:
Dmitry Kiselev: But now you have painted a perfectly fair picture of people seeing some hope in Russia. How is it that Western propaganda, with all its power, its colossal resources and tools, has failed to banish Russia, isolate it and create a false image of it, although it strived to do so in the heads of billions of people? How did that happen? Vladimir Putin: Because what I just said is more important to people. People all over the world feel it in their hearts. They don't even need any pragmatic explanations for what is happening. |
The good and wise people in Russia know who they are, what they have, and the stakes involved in keeping it; hence, they just reelected Putin by 87% of the popular vote. Putin knows the vampires have been practicing their dark arts worldwide, leeching off of every nation they can corner. From South Carolina to Greece to Niger to Sri Lanka, people live under different perceptions of a reality very different from that of today’s Russia. Some are waking up faster than others. There is ample pragmatic evidence, enough to count as hard proof, of the assorted evils of the Western elites and their system of usury, sodomy, and vicious blasphemies. Many or most victims of these crimes do not necessarily see or understand the full picture because they are too deeply embedded in it. Nonetheless, being mostly good people not totally devoid of intelligence, they do at least feel the oppression. And nothing can prevent the truth of even the suggestion of righteous resistance against that oppression from entering into their hearts or subconscious thoughts.
Once more, literature offers a glimpse of reality and perhaps commentary thereon, the Divine Comedy being an archetypal example. Paradiso affords an estimation of the eternal and Heavenly Glory. Purgatorio is a display of Christian life, constant attempts to do right in the face of original sin. Inferno is, of course, a warning against sin. Within Inferno, it could be that Dante was giving his readers a cautious preview of some of the traps, fallacies, and inversions that later accompanied the Enlightenment. While that great subversive movement synthesized all manner of sin into one civilization-destroying scheme, all of the individual sins and maladies were long since known to virtually all men. That is why the characters Dante and Virgil encounter in hell come from many varied times and cultures, both real and mythical.
As in Dante’s century, in ours, we are confronted with the age-old problems. The ruling elites of the West still pretend they are benefits. Many are aware of the dangers and oppression but do not know exactly how to break free. Thus, if only through their hearts, they look to better examples. At the same time Putin’s Russia is economically and militarily smashing the vampires’ reign to pieces, it is also reordering all of Russian society to foster better conditions for families and children, for the growth and enjoyment of the coming generations that will see the continuing existence of Russian culture. In Russia, families with children receive tax breaks, mortgage structure relaxations, financial subsidies, generous healthcare, education, and other benefits. The US does the same thing, except that it spends far more and the majority of benefits, privileges, and perk payments go to the vampires via their corporations, especially their banks. While it was popular, the fake hick Lunsford’s song lyrics were intentionally diversionary. Short, obese people eating Fudge Rounds constitute a minuscule portion of US “welfare” spending; there’s nothing more obese than a vampire.
Some of our enemies literally consume human blood as part of their satanic rituals, particularly the blood of children. However, for the most part, they feed on the life energy, spirit, and productivity of their victims—whole process vampirism. There was a distinct reason Putin chose the words he used to describe them. As if with Holy Water and Crucifixes, it is imperative to fight these monsters, to wage war against them. To bring their hellish ball to an end. This is our battle in the eternal war between God Above and the devil below. We are reminded: “Uninterrupted war with sin goes to the heart of man. The worst outcome here would be pacifism, the reconciliation of grace and sin. This would be neither a reconciliation nor a compromise, but the victory of sin.” See Dugin, Alexander, The Rise Of The Fourth Political Theory, London: Arktos, 2017, p. 14.
The victory will be ours. Know that and feel it in the heart.
Deo vindice.
Once more, literature offers a glimpse of reality and perhaps commentary thereon, the Divine Comedy being an archetypal example. Paradiso affords an estimation of the eternal and Heavenly Glory. Purgatorio is a display of Christian life, constant attempts to do right in the face of original sin. Inferno is, of course, a warning against sin. Within Inferno, it could be that Dante was giving his readers a cautious preview of some of the traps, fallacies, and inversions that later accompanied the Enlightenment. While that great subversive movement synthesized all manner of sin into one civilization-destroying scheme, all of the individual sins and maladies were long since known to virtually all men. That is why the characters Dante and Virgil encounter in hell come from many varied times and cultures, both real and mythical.
As in Dante’s century, in ours, we are confronted with the age-old problems. The ruling elites of the West still pretend they are benefits. Many are aware of the dangers and oppression but do not know exactly how to break free. Thus, if only through their hearts, they look to better examples. At the same time Putin’s Russia is economically and militarily smashing the vampires’ reign to pieces, it is also reordering all of Russian society to foster better conditions for families and children, for the growth and enjoyment of the coming generations that will see the continuing existence of Russian culture. In Russia, families with children receive tax breaks, mortgage structure relaxations, financial subsidies, generous healthcare, education, and other benefits. The US does the same thing, except that it spends far more and the majority of benefits, privileges, and perk payments go to the vampires via their corporations, especially their banks. While it was popular, the fake hick Lunsford’s song lyrics were intentionally diversionary. Short, obese people eating Fudge Rounds constitute a minuscule portion of US “welfare” spending; there’s nothing more obese than a vampire.
Some of our enemies literally consume human blood as part of their satanic rituals, particularly the blood of children. However, for the most part, they feed on the life energy, spirit, and productivity of their victims—whole process vampirism. There was a distinct reason Putin chose the words he used to describe them. As if with Holy Water and Crucifixes, it is imperative to fight these monsters, to wage war against them. To bring their hellish ball to an end. This is our battle in the eternal war between God Above and the devil below. We are reminded: “Uninterrupted war with sin goes to the heart of man. The worst outcome here would be pacifism, the reconciliation of grace and sin. This would be neither a reconciliation nor a compromise, but the victory of sin.” See Dugin, Alexander, The Rise Of The Fourth Political Theory, London: Arktos, 2017, p. 14.
The victory will be ours. Know that and feel it in the heart.
Deo vindice.
Last month, the Honorable Dr. Cynthia McKinney, Larry Johnson, Professor Alexander Dugin, the Honorable Maria Zakharova, and a whole bunch of brilliant, kind people gathered at Moscow State University for the 2024 conference of MIR, the International Russophiles Movement. In the middle of an incredible panel discussion, Dr. McKinney raised an issue of extraordinary importance. Please watch or listen to the whole show HERE.
McKinney’s comments kick in around 2:14:17, replicated here by way of my interpretation of YouTube’s attendant transcript:
…the one thing though that I don't think has been mentioned, and maybe our final speaker will mention it, is the difference between colonialism and neocolonialism, and the idea of sovereignty also meaning sovereignty. Financial sovereignty, but of those who print the currency, and that's one area that I haven't heard spoken of today. That is the international banking class; those people are private bankers and they are the ones that print the US dollar and they own most of the central banks around the world. So if we are going to make sure that multipolarity is our multipolarity we also have to declare financial economic currency sovereignty. |
During the above-linked session, I think the closest answer to McKinney, or rather, a matching concern, came a few minutes earlier from Mr. Ali Al-Qadi (SP?), a historian from Tunisia. Among several other items, he mentioned Emmanuel Todd’s excellent new book, La Défaite de l’Occident (2024). He was getting at matters within chapter ten, “La Bande De Washington,” around page 295, et seq., pertaining to the rise of “zombie” Protestantism in the West, a rise that coincided with the rise of Enlightenment democracy and financial capitalism. The gentleman then, around 2:03:45, said, “Union from above cannot be based on the same tools created by the materialistic world which condemns the theft of a loaf of bread by the poor but not usury.” Usury may be thought of as the fuel of financial capitalism. Old Cato and the Church thought of it as murder.
Mr. Al-Qadi and Dr. McKinney are both correct in their concerns and statements, especially those in the last part of McKinney’s address. If someone later or elsewhere answered McKinney directly, I’m unaware of it. So, I’m going to take a crack, particularly as to the global banksters. But first, briefly, neocolonialism is and is not just “new” colonialism, a revitalization or continuation of the old Powers domination witnessed from the Fifteenth Century through the Twentieth. It also delves deeply into the global world disorder of the Greater West, a wicked and total combination of state and private exploitation writ large, a united empire of lies spanning most of the globe. And the banking clans Dr. McKinney mentioned are at the heart of that combination.
She obviously knows what she’s talking about, as well as anyone from the West does. However, for those not up to speed, here is a quick primer on the creation of the fake money the Greater West uses(d) to subjugate the world. The private, illegal Federal Reserve Bank does print those paper dollars Americans use in ordinary transactions. But altogether, they amount to a miniscule part of the total money supply. More and more people fret over the potential rise of Central Bank Digital Currency, or CBDC, when something far worse has already happened: Commercial Bank Digital Sorcery (CBDS). The US is so far down the rabbit hole that the vast majority of “money” in the US economy (and in other Western economies) consists of fake, debt-based credit money substitutes, of loan-based illusions that simply do not exist. There is statistically zero real money in the US economy. A malicious hoax inside a lie behind a charade.
Ten years ago, the Bank of England kindly released a short white paper explaining exactly how fake money is created in the postmodern Western economy, an explanation ratified by the Federal Reserve:
Mr. Al-Qadi and Dr. McKinney are both correct in their concerns and statements, especially those in the last part of McKinney’s address. If someone later or elsewhere answered McKinney directly, I’m unaware of it. So, I’m going to take a crack, particularly as to the global banksters. But first, briefly, neocolonialism is and is not just “new” colonialism, a revitalization or continuation of the old Powers domination witnessed from the Fifteenth Century through the Twentieth. It also delves deeply into the global world disorder of the Greater West, a wicked and total combination of state and private exploitation writ large, a united empire of lies spanning most of the globe. And the banking clans Dr. McKinney mentioned are at the heart of that combination.
She obviously knows what she’s talking about, as well as anyone from the West does. However, for those not up to speed, here is a quick primer on the creation of the fake money the Greater West uses(d) to subjugate the world. The private, illegal Federal Reserve Bank does print those paper dollars Americans use in ordinary transactions. But altogether, they amount to a miniscule part of the total money supply. More and more people fret over the potential rise of Central Bank Digital Currency, or CBDC, when something far worse has already happened: Commercial Bank Digital Sorcery (CBDS). The US is so far down the rabbit hole that the vast majority of “money” in the US economy (and in other Western economies) consists of fake, debt-based credit money substitutes, of loan-based illusions that simply do not exist. There is statistically zero real money in the US economy. A malicious hoax inside a lie behind a charade.
Ten years ago, the Bank of England kindly released a short white paper explaining exactly how fake money is created in the postmodern Western economy, an explanation ratified by the Federal Reserve:
In the modern economy, most money takes the form of bank deposits. But how those bank deposits are created is often misunderstood: the principal way is through commercial banks making loans. Whenever a bank makes a loan, it simultaneously creates a matching deposit in the borrower’s bank account, thereby creating new money. (Emphasis, BOE’s.) |
Where do the banks get the money for the deposits and loans? The money for the loans is created by the loans. Out of nothing except monetary necromancy. This fake money does not exist in reality even though it accounts for a hyper majority of the money used in the economy. This is super usury, a system where the fake money itself essentially amounts to infinite interest. The private bankers merely press a button or wave a magic wand, and *POOF!* money appears. The usury victim must dedicate all or a portion of his life, robbing Peter to pay Judas, to pay off that which, again, does not exist. This is pure evil. It’s also intentional and it has the intended purpose of driving all ownership of all value, including the productivity of so many human lives, into the hands and pockets of a tiny elite cabal. It is designed to become untenable, which it always does in the end, destroying a nation’s economy in the process and, frequently, the nation. It is the mass systemization of the prohibited usury practices condemned by God the Father and Jesus Christ.
Many varied voices from many professional backgrounds have warned about the society-destroying results of this evil. See Debt by the late David Graeber (anthropologist), La Défaite… by Todd (historian), literally anything written by Michael Hudson and Steve Keen (economists), and Why The West Can’t Win by Dr. Fadi Lama (engineer).
Dr. Lama sets forth broad brush solutions in chapter ten of his book, “The End of Empire.”
Many varied voices from many professional backgrounds have warned about the society-destroying results of this evil. See Debt by the late David Graeber (anthropologist), La Défaite… by Todd (historian), literally anything written by Michael Hudson and Steve Keen (economists), and Why The West Can’t Win by Dr. Fadi Lama (engineer).
Dr. Lama sets forth broad brush solutions in chapter ten of his book, “The End of Empire.”
The financial monetary construct should be based on real value such as a basket of commodities and real goods, enabling money to have an intrinsic value as it had for millennia prior to Bretton Woods II. Already significant work is being undertaken in this area with joint efforts encompassing the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU), the BRICS and the SCO. See Lama, Why the West Can't Win, Atlanta: Clarity Press, 2023, p. 350. |
Further:
Commercial banks and insurance companies should be government owned to ensure the highest rates of national development and avoid the exploitation of society by a parasitic minority. This was a key element in the development path adopted by China, which allowed it to eradicate poverty and achieve phenomenal across-the-board development. Id |
Throughout Western history, these minority parasites have forged odd public-private partnerships with assorted states. Seneca called in fraudulent loans, Rome got into a war, and the Iceni lost their lives and sovereignty. A leading cause for the downfall of the Venetian Republic was its private central bank. The London Company(s), as operated in Virginia and New England during the Seventeenth Century, acted in much the same way as Black Rock or the IMF do today. The public part of the deal has to do with “lawful” chartering and any subsequent manipulations of the law necessary for the benefit of the private parties. It also involves shifting any costs, risks, or losses away from the parasites to the public. This is why the only immunity associated with the fraudulent COVID mRNA shots regards protecting pharmaceutical companies from liability. This is why one of the idiotic US COVID stimulus bills, a $2 trillion boondoggle, saw 75% of its proceeds go to the cabal while American taxpayers were put on the hook for 100% of the spending. Any and all profits and benefits of this kind of partnership always only flow towards the elite private parties.
The solution to this pressing problem is found, as Lama suggests, in the sovereign, multipolar, BRICS+ world. China’s monetary system is not exactly like Russia’s. Whether one weighs somewhat heavily on money as a public utility to be turned on and off as needed, while the other largely involves hard commodities backing the currency, they both work. And while both involve a kind of public-private relationship, both also involve government ownership or control at both ends of that spectrum. All banks in Russia are heavily regulated, by law and by the Bank of Russia (BOR). Many of the largest commercial banks are at least partly owned by the government. The BOR, unlike the Federal Reserve or the Bank of England, genuinely answers to the government. This reflects a policy of state banking control that dates back to the Russian Empire.
The banks of China and Russia facilitate a loop of economic control and benefit for both the people and the people’s government, one looking to the best interests of the other and looking ahead for the common good of individual concerns and those of larger society. Parasites starve under these systems as they ought. Both systems are now linked together providing an alternative to the US’s (Petro)dollar and SWIFT. This linkage is outside the control of Western powers and institutions. Other powerful economies are also linked to one degree or another. Developing economies are now joining or will join in order to further their development interests while also removing the chains imposed by the West. The BRICS+ share of the world economy now exceeds that of the West. A connected basket of honest currencies now competes with and outperforms the fake, dying Petrodollar. This new system has quickly become globally competitive; the Petrodollar share of international transaction settlements has fallen from 90+% a few years ago to 40% or less now. This fall in Kazan, a fully refined and named alternative economic and monetary system will or should be officially unveiled. The free world is happily waiting.
The unfree Western world is still voting, hoping, and wishing. Do not expect the system to suddenly undo or police itself. Rather, out of spite it will ratchet down on its captive victims harder than ever. Neither Donald Trump nor Joe Biden will or can save Americans from this inevitable calamity. Thankfully, one day—hopefully, one day soon—this satanic system of perpetual abuse will collapse. When it does, Americans and other Westerners need to be ready to rebuild their nations or descended rump states. That reordering will and must include things like currency sovereignty. When the time comes, the fake debts must be canceled, real money restored, and perhaps the usurers dealt with appropriately.
Monetary sovereignty: thank God the gentlelady mentioned it.
Deo vindice.
The solution to this pressing problem is found, as Lama suggests, in the sovereign, multipolar, BRICS+ world. China’s monetary system is not exactly like Russia’s. Whether one weighs somewhat heavily on money as a public utility to be turned on and off as needed, while the other largely involves hard commodities backing the currency, they both work. And while both involve a kind of public-private relationship, both also involve government ownership or control at both ends of that spectrum. All banks in Russia are heavily regulated, by law and by the Bank of Russia (BOR). Many of the largest commercial banks are at least partly owned by the government. The BOR, unlike the Federal Reserve or the Bank of England, genuinely answers to the government. This reflects a policy of state banking control that dates back to the Russian Empire.
The banks of China and Russia facilitate a loop of economic control and benefit for both the people and the people’s government, one looking to the best interests of the other and looking ahead for the common good of individual concerns and those of larger society. Parasites starve under these systems as they ought. Both systems are now linked together providing an alternative to the US’s (Petro)dollar and SWIFT. This linkage is outside the control of Western powers and institutions. Other powerful economies are also linked to one degree or another. Developing economies are now joining or will join in order to further their development interests while also removing the chains imposed by the West. The BRICS+ share of the world economy now exceeds that of the West. A connected basket of honest currencies now competes with and outperforms the fake, dying Petrodollar. This new system has quickly become globally competitive; the Petrodollar share of international transaction settlements has fallen from 90+% a few years ago to 40% or less now. This fall in Kazan, a fully refined and named alternative economic and monetary system will or should be officially unveiled. The free world is happily waiting.
The unfree Western world is still voting, hoping, and wishing. Do not expect the system to suddenly undo or police itself. Rather, out of spite it will ratchet down on its captive victims harder than ever. Neither Donald Trump nor Joe Biden will or can save Americans from this inevitable calamity. Thankfully, one day—hopefully, one day soon—this satanic system of perpetual abuse will collapse. When it does, Americans and other Westerners need to be ready to rebuild their nations or descended rump states. That reordering will and must include things like currency sovereignty. When the time comes, the fake debts must be canceled, real money restored, and perhaps the usurers dealt with appropriately.
Monetary sovereignty: thank God the gentlelady mentioned it.
Deo vindice.
Danivolsky District, Moscow, one afternoon…
Upon exiting the Metro station and climbing the stairs to the street level, as soon as her eyes peered above the top step, Julia watched an orange street car pull away to the east. In another moment she was standing on the plaza sidewalk. With a quick glance to her left, she saw the next tram coming, a sparkling new white model, still a short distance away. She paused under a canopy, noting the distinct if temporary change in the weather. While she wasn’t sure if meteorological spring would come early, as some now predicted, she was slightly gladdened by the day’s increase in sunlight and temperature. After loosening her scarf and collar, she took out her phone.
With another check, seeing the tram inching closer, she scrolled to Perry’s latest email and its literary attachment. She felt a slight pang of guilt in that she had not yet read it—a nothing of a hopeful little story, as he’d put it. En route to him now, she’d wondered if she had time and the necessary attention to give it justice, be it a nothing or otherwise. Just then, an idea popped into her head, immediately followed by buds popping into her ears just below her mink hat. She carefully selected the “read aloud” feature and tuned the delivery speed to 1.5x. That, she thought, even as the tram slowed to a stop before her, would be fast enough to get through the whole story on her short hop while still allowing her a full digestion. As she boarded and waved her troika card over the reader, a mildly robotic male voice began to tell her the tale:
Rafah, Gaza, Palestine, present-day… To little Rindi’s reckoning, as best her six-year-old mind could see it, the shift in tempo and the welcomed reprieve had come just a few days earlier, perhaps a few days after the world learned the hideous truth about the mass murder and maiming of nearly one thousand starving people in the streets, lured by the occupiers with the false promise of food and clean water. News, internet, and cellular service, absolutely unreliable since October, had lately almost completely disappeared. Yet rumors swirled and grew. Adults and older children spoke furtively about some new outside actor joining the conflict, someone who could turn a massacre into a fighting chance for life. The daily bombings and raids had slowed and then, just the day before, had stopped altogether. New cruise missiles and jet aircraft were seen, here and there, screaming through the sky high above the refugee camp. No one believed her when she tried to explain, but she was certain she had caught a glimpse of two of the new missiles. They had looked like small darts and she could have sworn they had little wings. She gasped as they sailed silently through the clear blue heavens, followed by a faint yet reverberating, cascading crackle of artificial thunder. They came and went in an instant. Nobody listened to her, though everybody excitedly if cautiously spoke. She didn’t understand the importance of the directions, but all the adults noted that these new weapons fly in from the Sea and towards the occupiers. Out of terrible desperation, hope arose that some unknown force was driving back the murderous besieging hordes. Beyond hope or even belief, it appeared that was exactly what was happening. The warming winds at the end of winter were bringing great change, greatly needed. Many prayers were raised that it would immediately nourish and heal the ailments of war and famine. And sure enough, just the night before, trucks, ambulances, and taxis had sped through the rough streets at her far end of the camp, speeding, in fact, all over the beleaguered city. Police, freedom fighters, aid workers, and other good men hastily grabbed up those most grievously wounded or famished, taking them back towards the old port where it was alleged a new field hospital had been very recently erected. In their place were left bottles of “Publix Spring Water” and something called “Clif Bars” — labels printed in a script Rindi couldn’t read though she knew what their wrappings contained. Promises were also left that more and better were on the way very soon. And again their hopes rose. The deep night had been hectic, enlightening, but still terrifying. Rindi couldn’t remember sleeping. Out in the cold, voices shouted that something miraculous was happening at the old jetty, some work of hasty martial engineering. Soon thereafter, at some distance but still far too close at hand, a mighty series of explosions sounded, blasts that lightly shook the ground and her sleeping mat. Still, any fear tempted to return was denied by some unreasoned optimism. More jet engines roared overhead. Someone cried out that the occupiers’ wall and fence, to Rindi’s people “the cage,” had been felled nearby. A few loud vehicles passed the tent. ‘They are coming!’ someone had shouted in the dark, though with a hint of praise in place of trepidation. Higher rose the hopes of all. It was very early. The light of a cool dawn was breaking. Rindi had just finished her Clif Bar, splitting it with her little sister. Otherwise, she might have thought it tasted funny, not quite sweet or sour, though with a definite hint of chocolate. Then and there, however, it tasted like deliverance, the first hard sustenance she’d had in over a week. She had just allowed the baby to lick the sticky remains of gooey dough from inside the foil wrapper when, suddenly, great excitement grew to a pitch outside their tent. The constant cheers and the mechanical rumbling, groaning sounds forced her outside for an inspection. With one hand, she pulled the collar of her pink sweater tight. The very small girl’s shiver returned as she watched the procession, already in progress when she finally forced her way through an opening between the legs of some adults, one of whom was her mother. However this time, her flutters owed to a confident anticipation she didn’t fully understand, a healthy rejoicing change from the usual quakes born of cold, hunger, and dread. Even as she’d approached behind the older folks, the bawl was noisy, near-deafening. Again the ground was shaking, accompanied by a rumbling in the air that flowed with the sound of large engines revving, and the repeated great blasts of many air horns. She was astounded to see a large column of military vehicles passing them by, making for the wall and, Rindi and the others guessed, business with the occupiers beyond. In a long array, there came a convoy of assorted large grey GAMAZ and URAL trucks. Some of them looked like rolling boxes. Some were topped by strange antennas. Others towed trailers and more than a few artillery. A great many of them carried soldiers clad in grey. Betwixt and between the trucks, there were many columns of grey battle tanks—T-90s, T-14s, and the new-to-the-world C-1 Forrests. These latter mechanical beasts, along with some of the trucks, flew flags. She had never seen them before though she found them at once striking and beautiful. The vehicles all boasted a series of markings, words, and numbers Rindi could not make out or interpret. Commanders sat half within their hatches atop the tank turrets, stern men wearing grey camouflage uniforms and helmets. As the last tank passed, Rindi caught its commander looking to her side of the street. He had a short blonde beard and, despite the low light, he wore black sunglasses beneath his helmet. He took off his glasses, slowly raised his other arm, and saluted the crowd. At the risk of dropping her big pink doll, almost half as tall as she, Rindi returned the gesture. She knew he winked directly at her. Then he and the others were gone. She leaned out and watched as they vanished in the distance where the cage walls were or had been. From the remote clouds of dust that leaped into the air, it was obvious they were dispersing once they passed out of Gaza. Voices called out all around her, though they were temporarily drowned from above. Rindi and all the others looked up to see a flock of ten or twelve attack helicopters fly forward, following the tanks with their noses down. They cleared the wall and, most likely overtaking the armor, they also dispersed in this direction or that. At the edge of sight, it looked like one released a torrent of rockets or flares as it pivoted. Soon they too had vanished. But while they had been overhead, Rindi thought they were very loud, whooping along under counter-rotating props. She noted they were all grey, bearing strange markings she had never seen before. Maybe it was the rising sun or her imagination, but to her, they almost looked like flying crocodiles. As scary as they might be, she loved crocodiles and remembered them from her older brother’s school books. He had explained that some people called them alligators, a distinction she didn’t understand. Sadly, he had never explained further and never would; he had been martyred by the occupiers in the opening weeks of the horrible assault on their town in the north of the Strip. While she was excited like everyone else, she was also naturally curious. She asked again, “Who are they?” And, again, she was ignored. Her temptation to ask once more was quashed when she heard a new sound coming, a musical sound. Looking down the street, back towards the beach and the port, she plainly saw a marching band approaching at the head of what she took to be a parade. Now the vanguard, the band itself, was passing by. While a few children stopped their ears over the loud, brash music, she found solace and a thrill in the blarred notes. Who were these men, she wondered, this time only to herself. Had she known English (and Latin), the answer marched right by her on a banner: “Appalachian Scots Corps ~ Semper Prius In Periculo.” Regardless of her understanding, they marched forward. The big drums explained themselves. But she had never seen, or heard of, or certainly heard the other instruments. Bags of cloth, they appeared to her eyes, each topped with numerous pipes or funny reeds. The marching men, soldiers she took them, blew into a reed while squeezing the bags. This produced a constant loud but melodious music. And how these men marched! Each wore a grey uniform, topped by a combat helmet, but underneath their body armor, Rindi was astounded to see they also wore skirts. Not the kind Mama wore—these, also grey, were shorter, stopping around the men’s knees. Their black combat boots stomped along rhythmically. The whole end of the camp crowded thickly at the edges of the street to catch a glimpse of these newcomers. Rindi found herself clapping and marching in place, her doll dangling precariously under her arm. She saw more of the beautiful flags. Right behind the band came more infantry, more men in grey uniforms and helmets, though these wore pants, not skirts. Each carried a Kalashnikov battle rifle and wore a heavy pack. Even more of the beautiful flags were on moving display. She had never seen them before. A few, the ones maybe a little larger than the others, featured three red and white stripes with a blue field in one corner bedecked with a circle of white stars. But it was the other flags, the more numerous flags, that caught her attention. They were fields of brilliant red crossed with ribbons of blue like an artful elongated “X” with each ribbon holding more white stars. The marching column reached the end of the street by the clearing and quickly moved on towards the remains of the wall, which must have by then been fully broken down by the tanks. Thousands of these men exited Rafah and entered the fray. And at the very end, a single C-1 slowly rumbled past. Rindi again saw the words and numbers she didn’t understand. This time, however, a man in the crowd read them aloud: ‘THIRD ARMOR / 03-212 / Confederate States Army.’ ‘It was them, Allah be praised!’ another man yelled nearby. ‘Their missiles—from the sea—halted the attacks! They drove the great satan’s ships away! They sent the scouts, the doctors, and the food. Allahu Akbar!!’ Rindi looked all around. The people were still generally shouting and cheering in jubilation. ‘Who are they, mother?’ she asked. ‘Who were those men in the tanks?’ ‘The Americans,’ her mother said. ‘The Americans have come!’ ‘I thought the Americans were our enemies, friends of the zionists,’ Rindi said in protest. ‘My darling little girl,’ her mother explained, ‘you speak of the other, hateful Americans, the step-children of the devil. They who arm and empower the occupiers, they who spread misery around the world whenever they still can. These are the remnants of the true Americans, mostly Christians from the great south of their distant land. At last, they defeated the devil’s forces in America; now they have come to face his children here.’ Even as a trio of SU-25s flew hurriedly over, making for the growing battle, Rindi smiled. Then she threw her hands up (and her doll) and openly laughed in joy. **** Just a little over a week earlier, Rafah’s triumphant merriment had been preceded by solemnity and slow, strong words in New Richmond, Virginia, capital of the Confederate States of America. From his office, the leader of the free Americans addressed his television audience concerning matters of extreme urgency. Following a short pause, President P.C. Graham took off his spectacles and placed them on his desk. Once more, he looked into the camera and continued speaking to his nation and much of the free world: ‘My fellow Americans, all peoples of goodwill joining us tonight, I have just recounted but a fraction of the litany of abuses, abominations, war crimes, and crimes of aggression committed by Israel against those who may well constitute the poorest, most helpless, and most defenseless population on our good earth. These are plain, painful, and horrible truths that the world can no longer afford to ignore. Less than one decade ago, we in Dixie liberated ourselves from a similar if far less acute tyranny after fifteen long decades of suffering. We barely had the ability to throw off Abraham Lincoln’s propositional chains, and we only did so with the help of our international friends and partners. Are we now prepared to watch as other friends and innocents are slaughtered on the altar of hate, ethno-religious supremacy, and genocidal expediency? ‘What I am about to reveal to you, dear people, dear friends, is my answer to that terrible question. It follows hours and days of discussion among your government officials as we pondered history, morality, and that hideous litany of deadly provocations. I spoke of the murder of little Hind Rajab, her family, and the paramedics sent to rescue her. I spoke of yesterday’s massacre by machine gun of starving people, lured into a shooting gallery with the false promise of food. That horror has already been repeated—they now call the crimes flour massacres. We have discussed these matters and more. I have also discussed the foregoing with Presidents Putin and Jinping. I attempted, in vain, a discussion with that recalcitrant and craven leader to our north. ‘I have spoken with the valiant President Ramaphosa of South Africa far away, praise be to him and his team, as well as the honorable Lady Abrams of New Africa, our southwesterly neighbor, and ally. Lady Abrams and I have the concurrence in judgment of President Jones of Texas and or President Obrador of Mexico. I have spoken with Middle Eastern leaders, including the Palestinian Authority and Hamas, and I have extensively spoken with my other BRICS colleagues, particularly in Iran and Saudi Arabia. I have spoken with other free leaders in our Hemisphere. Several of these leaders and nations have joined me in forming the Coalition of the Noble. My decisions this evening follow in the deliberations of the Security Council and the rulings of the International Court of Justice. Most importantly, they stem from the request and permission of the lawful government of Palestine. ‘Therefore, for all these reasons, by all these agreements, and for the sake of honor, charity, and human dignity, the time to act is upon us all. Because the poor, starving, and displaced people of Gaza and of greater Palestine face certain genocide and as time will not admit delay, I have authorized a Special Military Intervention to demilitarize and deZionize Palestine. This will be a forceful operation designed to liberate and protect the indigenous people and to provide a peacekeeping force while they, and only they decide what is best for their future. For one hundred and twenty-five years, they have been denied the basic right of self-determination. Justice is long overdue and I ask for your prayers that they might make the correct choices going forward, that we may all place these titanic issues in the sovereign hands of God Almighty. ‘A word of warning—to anyone tempted to interfere with this necessary operation, know that if you do so interfere, with force, then you will face consequences of a kind rarely witnessed in history. You can thwart neither positive justice nor the will and wrath of Heaven. Saint Michael heads our Coalition and he will brook no obstruction. ‘Thank you, my fellow citizens. May God bless the Confederacy. And may He keep, hold, guard, and bless all gentle, righteous mankind. Good evening.’ **** A week later, as Rindi, her family, and people celebrated, columns of Confederate armor, infantry, and support rolled through Kerem Shalom, southeast of the 1950 Armistice Line. As the tanks roared ahead into battle and the howitzers and Heavy Flamethrowers began hurling their flying death, a large field command truck flanked by a tracked Pantsir defense platform and several mobile radar-comm assemblies slowed near the tumbled concrete ruins of an illegal settler Kibbutz barn. The men inside listened through the insulated walls as an occasional boom of cannon fire sounded outside, generally some ways ahead or to their right. Captain Williams lifted one side of his headset and turned to address his men: ‘Time to be cold, real frosty. We are now operational, free and clear, and with, unfortunately, somewhat dimmed netcentric ISR reporting. We’re gonna be outside of Fleet’s immediate AD concern. The Davis is devoting everything to shielding Gaza until the ground 400-450s are up. Everything else is concentrated towards our north and east and the show. We have our radar, a rolling rocket and rotary show, and Biggers out there with the Star Trek gun to save our butts from anything the Zios still have left UAV or artillery-wise. Shovels on the walls in case we need to dig in and camo this heap in a hurry the next hillside we come to. And, ladies, keep y’all’s laces tight in case we have to run for it. Got it?’ After a smattering of ‘Yessirs’ and ‘Rogers,’ Specialist Hobson asked, ‘Which way are we to run, sir?’ ‘Well, towards the front!’ Williams returned with a smile. ‘Remember, we’re not alone. New Africans, Texans, and the others are triple-inserting up the coast. Hitting some pretty heavy resistance. That’s where most fleet and air heavy support fire is directed until they punch through. And by the way, we’re all radio English now, with the translators. Aerospace and Signal say they’ve essentially removed intercept and interference capabilities. AND! If y’all hear a rumble to the right, that’s one hundred thousand-plus Egyptians joining the party! There is some extended fleet cruise coverage over our heads. That and some IRG Fattahs are holding the Zios from running out to the desert. We are gonna roll up north—just like we did in the War!—crush this rabble, and meet Hezbollah at Bibi’s house!’ A smattering of rebel yells ended with an announcement from Sergeant Dawson: ‘The desert, sir. Rangers and Recon just took Negev-Dimona and the last associated sites! It appears Mr. Samson is, in fact, impotent, just like GRU said he would be.’ Before anyone could react to the news, Clarke chimed in: ‘Back off the East Coast,’ he said, ‘commander of the Hunley advised the Pentagram that any further interference and he would happily quote-unquote Shermanize Noo Yak and Baastin! Not that the Yankees still have it in ‘em.’ More yells and cheers were quieted by the able voice of Williams again: ‘By interference, they thought they still had it. I presume our good sailor boy meant what just happened in the Med five minutes ago. President Ice Cream reneged on his USN withdrawal and the Yankee floating airport wheeled around, alert launches ready on the deck. Then the Big Beau started slinging Zircons. A moment of silence, please. The very last Yankee carrier is going down by her bow!’ In response, he got anything but silence. ***Big question: Is this too “White Savior” or whatever they call it? Especially from a people with no military, no country, and not even fighting for their own existence at the moment. Not the first tank, ship, pipe, or drum. Lemme know what you think, Babe - Perry PS: Do let me know if my head is right! |
Julia took her earbuds out and pocketed them along with her phone as she walked into the conference room of the Citadel Forum at the Patriarchal Center. Deciding not to be embarrassed by her tardiness, she found the semi-monthly Anglo-Francophile Friends of Moscow meeting coming near to its end. Taking a seat next to Irena by the wall, she did observe a dozen or so young women, visitors evidently from a sorority at the University of Alabama. Her eyes narrowed for a second as she scanned them, making sure they appeared more interested in the subject matter than the presenter. Satisfied, she turned her attention to him.
Pericles was mainly speaking English, with an occasional French or Russian reference. He’d just said something comical about Tucker Carlson. A quick side remark about something called “the Machine” made the young ladies giggle. He then evidently picked up something or somewhere he’d left off and issued his concluding remarks.
‘The guy from We Are the Mighty—what a name—was a Mr. Logan, something or another, a special forces veteran and obviously not a serious organizational planner. Again, his article was about the mighty GAE attacking the entire world at the same time. His summation still sticks in my mind: In short, ‘Murica would stomp them! Of course, they would. That was only four years ago. Today, if he’s noticed, four years later, the mighty can’t even stomp the Houthis to say nothing of a mere ten percent of this country’s professional military.’
Perry looked around and then, seeing her for the first time, winked at Julia. ‘They can no longer stomp anyone anywhere. But they can still cause problems everywhere. On their own or via proxies. They deal it out, and we, the powerful and affluent, hard as we do have it some days, we think we’re really under the gun. Truth be told, we’re not. Which leads us back, again and again, to Gaza where they are. I’ll finish with the last lines of a poem by Canadian journalist Paul Salvatori, We are Not as Strong as Palestinian Children:
Pericles was mainly speaking English, with an occasional French or Russian reference. He’d just said something comical about Tucker Carlson. A quick side remark about something called “the Machine” made the young ladies giggle. He then evidently picked up something or somewhere he’d left off and issued his concluding remarks.
‘The guy from We Are the Mighty—what a name—was a Mr. Logan, something or another, a special forces veteran and obviously not a serious organizational planner. Again, his article was about the mighty GAE attacking the entire world at the same time. His summation still sticks in my mind: In short, ‘Murica would stomp them! Of course, they would. That was only four years ago. Today, if he’s noticed, four years later, the mighty can’t even stomp the Houthis to say nothing of a mere ten percent of this country’s professional military.’
Perry looked around and then, seeing her for the first time, winked at Julia. ‘They can no longer stomp anyone anywhere. But they can still cause problems everywhere. On their own or via proxies. They deal it out, and we, the powerful and affluent, hard as we do have it some days, we think we’re really under the gun. Truth be told, we’re not. Which leads us back, again and again, to Gaza where they are. I’ll finish with the last lines of a poem by Canadian journalist Paul Salvatori, We are Not as Strong as Palestinian Children:
‘We don’t know the suffering, And we don’t know how to suffer Without making it about us. ‘We are not as strong as Palestinian children.’ |
He then half-smiled, leaned away from the podium, and said, ‘We’re not. But we are and should be honored by each other’s good company and discussion. Of the good, the bad, and the very ugly. Many thanks to our hosts and the Center. Don’t forget to pick up those pamphlets on the way out. Thank you all for coming and for putting up with me. Merci et bon après-midi. Vsem dobryy vecher. And, last thing, please think about the strong little girl up on the screen, a real girl in a real camp in Rafah. Thanks.’
After a few brief words here and there and kind of positioning herself between Perry and the chatty girls from al-a-BAM-a, really against them, Julia allowed him to lead her towards the door and his new Niva Classic outside.
‘Sorry I was late, baby,’ she said. ‘But from the ending, you seemed to have held it all together very well.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Did you by any chance have time to look at the Rafah story?’
‘Not to look at it, no. But I did listen to it on the way over,’ she answered.
‘And?’
‘I was rather impressed in a way. But first, tell me what you, the author, think.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘As much as I want to, I don’t like it. Feels hollow, like some sort of impotent rage launched out of nothing. I almost chickened out and had a story within a story told by a random protagonist. Ridiculous, really. The heroes are far-fetched, to put it mildly, soldiers who don’t exist. And even if they did, would or could it even work out as written? Tenuous. But the worst part is the feeling that it almost makes a mockery of real suffering. Sure, the idea of riding to the rescue is great. But that won’t happen—not by me—and still, the victimization is very real and terrible. I put that little girl up on the screen as a reminder, like a real Rindi looking down, happy and sweet, but haunting. The words of the poem. She’s real and strong, and all I have are cheap words. How’s that?’
‘Perceptive. Kind and self-deprecating, but maybe missing something. To do or—’
‘What we can do, I suppose. As-is, all they have are South Africa, the Houthis, and Hezbollah. A world of sympathy, but little action. Things keep heating up and moving forward, but there’s just no telling. Which leads me back to wanting to do something. Anything. And wondering if I’m just making the suffering about me.’
‘You’re not.’
‘Thanks. To do anything. Those final social media words of Aaron Bushnell, America’s least likely and maybe last military hero.’
‘My dear,’ she said soothingly, ‘it’s because of his sentiment that I like the story. Or the thoughts behind it. Whether it’s in a court, in the UN, with missiles, with fire, or just with a few words, a few little nothings of words. Nothings of hope. It’s the act of doing anything to raise awareness beyond, for them, not for you or us, that makes the difference. Rindi is Hind Rajab, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if you were General Pericles, CSA, cleared for action, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Not for glory or for Anglo-Western tradition or any of it, but as a genteel marker of the right thing done necessarily to ease the suffering of others, correct? That no true cause be lost?’
‘Your thoughts are clearer than mine. Yes and yes.’
‘Then, my baby—’ She leaned up and kissed his nose. ‘Your head and your heart are in the right place.’
And so, in a ruggedly capable if outlandishly misplaced little four-by-four, they made their way towards the nearest bridge and dinner beyond. Absent-mindedly, he turned the radio on. She tuned to a new station without thought guiding her action. And on some news program, at a recorded protest away in the West, a lone voice called out the cry, ‘From the River to the Sea, Palestine will be free!’
DO SOMETHING.
After a few brief words here and there and kind of positioning herself between Perry and the chatty girls from al-a-BAM-a, really against them, Julia allowed him to lead her towards the door and his new Niva Classic outside.
‘Sorry I was late, baby,’ she said. ‘But from the ending, you seemed to have held it all together very well.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Did you by any chance have time to look at the Rafah story?’
‘Not to look at it, no. But I did listen to it on the way over,’ she answered.
‘And?’
‘I was rather impressed in a way. But first, tell me what you, the author, think.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘As much as I want to, I don’t like it. Feels hollow, like some sort of impotent rage launched out of nothing. I almost chickened out and had a story within a story told by a random protagonist. Ridiculous, really. The heroes are far-fetched, to put it mildly, soldiers who don’t exist. And even if they did, would or could it even work out as written? Tenuous. But the worst part is the feeling that it almost makes a mockery of real suffering. Sure, the idea of riding to the rescue is great. But that won’t happen—not by me—and still, the victimization is very real and terrible. I put that little girl up on the screen as a reminder, like a real Rindi looking down, happy and sweet, but haunting. The words of the poem. She’s real and strong, and all I have are cheap words. How’s that?’
‘Perceptive. Kind and self-deprecating, but maybe missing something. To do or—’
‘What we can do, I suppose. As-is, all they have are South Africa, the Houthis, and Hezbollah. A world of sympathy, but little action. Things keep heating up and moving forward, but there’s just no telling. Which leads me back to wanting to do something. Anything. And wondering if I’m just making the suffering about me.’
‘You’re not.’
‘Thanks. To do anything. Those final social media words of Aaron Bushnell, America’s least likely and maybe last military hero.’
‘My dear,’ she said soothingly, ‘it’s because of his sentiment that I like the story. Or the thoughts behind it. Whether it’s in a court, in the UN, with missiles, with fire, or just with a few words, a few little nothings of words. Nothings of hope. It’s the act of doing anything to raise awareness beyond, for them, not for you or us, that makes the difference. Rindi is Hind Rajab, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if you were General Pericles, CSA, cleared for action, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Not for glory or for Anglo-Western tradition or any of it, but as a genteel marker of the right thing done necessarily to ease the suffering of others, correct? That no true cause be lost?’
‘Your thoughts are clearer than mine. Yes and yes.’
‘Then, my baby—’ She leaned up and kissed his nose. ‘Your head and your heart are in the right place.’
And so, in a ruggedly capable if outlandishly misplaced little four-by-four, they made their way towards the nearest bridge and dinner beyond. Absent-mindedly, he turned the radio on. She tuned to a new station without thought guiding her action. And on some news program, at a recorded protest away in the West, a lone voice called out the cry, ‘From the River to the Sea, Palestine will be free!’
DO SOMETHING.
This piece was published at Perrin Lovett on March 8, 2024.
In Stephen King’s 1983 novel, Pet Sematary, yet another family in another Maine town stumbles across rank evil. In the woods around Ludlow lies an ancient American Indian burial ground. Whatever beast or man goes into the earth there is quickly reanimated in demonic form. To preserve peace, the living residents of the town must soon destroy any cat, boy, or war veteran who so returns as a zombie. What if our Clown World shamans from hell are doing something similar with all kinds of people everywhere within that strange nation-shaped kind of place between Mexico and Canada? It’s just a question and a theory.
One learned man after another, from Professor Alexander Dugin to Emmanuel Todd to Pepe Escobar to Dr. Fadi Lama correctly suggests that Western natives have been as equally victimized by the demons of Clown World as any colonized or exploited people anywhere else. They also agree that as the decent multipolar world turns its collective back on the Clowns, Western natives will be the only victims left to Clown predation. And the Clowns, filled with fear, hate, and rage, will unleash even more destruction on their final victims. But what if—my theory—they have found a way to vent on their captive hosts and keep oppressing some foreign peoples at the same time?
The English colonies in America were, as one might suspect, predominantly populated with Englishmen. Then came our African friends in the company of more people from Northwestern Europe. Then came other Europeans, Asians, Hispanics, and everyone else. The whole time, pre-Columbian native groups like the Mi'kmaq, semi-slandered in so many horror novels, had it rather rough.
The “Great Replacement” is not a conspiracy theory; rather, it has been official US policy since at least 1965. Since then, the non-Hispanic White European percentage of the population has been falling, though for a while the group’s total numbers continued to rise. The rate of increase began to slow some decades ago and it ground to an effective flatline in 2015. Thereafter, from 2016 through 2022, there was a net numerical loss of approximately 2,660,138 individuals. 2023 and 2024, once tabulated, will likely take the net loss to minus 4 million. Census figures have become fuzzy at best, but it is likely Whites are numerically back to where they were around 1990 and maybe earlier. They have dropped from 75% to 57% of the total population (probably closer to 50% including just those of purely European ancestry). Yet the total US population since 1990 has increased by approximately 90 million people.
Today, virtually all additional warm bodies come from abroad. For a while, some of the increase was due to growth among Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, and others. That trend appears to be over. Pursuant to my theory, I suspect something dreadful is afoot. Non-White US natives are starting to vanish too!
Black American population growth was slowing, following only seven or eight years behind Whites in demographic tendency. Their flatline came in 2021. And in 2022, they dropped by 100,343 people. Hispanics, the second-largest total demographic cohort, are in a similar position, losing 659,588 people in 2022. Asians and other peoples are similarly slowing and could dip into negative territory this year—if they didn’t last year. (The mRNA biowarfare program of 2021-22 might explain such drastic one-year reductions, but it wouldn’t necessarily explain the slowing during the previous years.
White Americans used to be Westerners in the classical sense of the word. Then, very slowly but thoroughly, they morphed into postmodern faux Westerners, into callous, hedonistic usury service bots. While their road was a little longer and more convoluted, Blacks began to join the transformation during the second half of the 20th Century. Hispanics followed a similar route. Many Asians, Native Indian remnants, and others are joining or have joined the great dystopian madhouse.
Much like the plot of King’s novel, we had a country of real, normal, living people. In rapid, successive waves, they mutated into zombies incapable of maintaining much in the way of civilized society. Now, due to what might be a form of mass suicide, they’re destroying themselves. If they keep it up for another generation or three in a vacuum, then the sign might as well read: “Welcome to ‘Murika, population: 0.” Again, virtually all population growth is driven by immigrants. What if further replacement immigration is designed to or has been co-opted to facilitate a continuous cycle of human elimination?
Our satanic ruling elites generally see but three classes of people. They, of course, are at the top. The second class might as well be considered slaves (maybe pets) for the elites. Someone has to grow the elites’ food, heal the elites’ ailments, pave the elites’ roads, generate the elites’ electricity, entertain the elites, provide security for the elites (against the awakened wrath of the rest), and have a few extra offspring here and there so these walking demons have children to molest. The third class, perhaps 90% of humanity, are euphemistically referred to by the elites as the “useless” or “worthless” class. They’ve been openly calling people that for fifty years and, now, they’re openly working on ways to cull the “surplus population” as Ebenezer Scrooge put it. This three-tiered classification is a global concept, at least in the parts of the globe still dominated by Clown World.
What if the Clowns are now using the vast zombie burial grounds of America to 1) keep a steady slave-pet contingent handy, and 2) wipe out the rest of humanity? Too many Africans? Ship them to America. Is South Asia overcrowded? Pet Sematary time. How many Argentinians? You get the idea. Maybe it’s a metaphysical question. I’m not certain as it is, again, just a theory. If one is a young demographer with some free time, this might be something to pay attention to, track, and report.
Those in the Sovereign Nations are wise to continue separating themselves from this demented wickedness. For those in America, the West, and places still under Western occupation, it may be time to try something new. Something like fighting and turning the tables on our beloved elites. While some in America still timidly cherish the idea of a non-violent reaction (to a war of extermination), men like Ma Xinmin, legal advisor for the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, rightly acknowledge the right of oppressed and occupied peoples to fight back against their oppressors and occupiers. Americans used to understand that truth, which is still enshrined in Article Ten of the New Hampshire Constitution as the Right (and even responsibility) of Revolution against tyranny: “The doctrine of nonresistance against arbitrary power, and oppression, is absurd, slavish, and destructive of the good and happiness of mankind.”
While a character in King’s book deduces, "sometimes, dead is better," I suggest that when dealing with sociopathic satanic killers, dead is always better. While one ponders this theoretical story of anti-human horror, please enjoy a lyrical take on it by the Ramones. Do you want to be buried in the American Sematary?
Deo vindice. Mors daemonibus.
Author
Perrin Lovett is a novelist, author, and small-time meddler. He is a loveable, unobtrusive somewhat-right-wing Christian nationalist residing somewhere in Dixie. The revised second edition of his groundbreaking novel, THE SUBSTITUTE, is available from Shotwell Publishing and Amazon. Find his ramblings at www.perrinlovett.me. Deo Vindice!
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